Bedtime Routines
by Daughters of Gondor
Summary: A nightly routine for Aragorn and his son. Companion piece to 'Second Chance'. Vague hints of slash and mpreg. Could be read as a separate fic.


A/N:  Alright, I was trying to sleep one night (that's when I get my best ideas) and this came to me.  We had another short idea that would take place before this but since Brina came up with that idea I thought I'd let her write that one.  Unfortunately, since she doesn't have enough time on the computer she uses for email she can't post.  But, I thought, since I have the time and I wrote this, then I would give our ASCAL fans a treat and post this now.

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**Bedtime Routines**

_TA 2986 June_

_Imladris_

Bath.  Play.  Rock.  Story.  Sleep.  Blessed sleep.

Every night it was the same routine.

Farothen would fight his bath, hiding anywhere he could until he was dragged out from under the bed, out of the wardrobe...from whichever hiding place he'd chosen for the night.  Then came the struggle to get him out of his clothes.  That took a while so it was done while the bath was being filled.  Plop the boy in the water and _finally_ things got 'fun'.

Bathing Farothen habitually accomplished three things.  Farothen was clean, hair washed.  The bathing chamber was flooded.  And the adult of the night was soaked head to foot.

Aragorn sighed as he got another splash of water to his face.  The splash was accompanied by his four year old son's rather infectious giggle and Aragorn couldn't stop his own chuckle.

"Ada," Farothen said, seeing he had his father's attention, "Water all gone."

Aragorn sighed in half amusement, "That is because you have splashed it all over the floor and me.  Besides," he grabbed a towel and reached for his son, "It's time to get out anyway."

"No!" Farothen yelled, trying unsuccessfully to bat Aragorn's hands away, "Play!"

Wrapping the boy tightly in the towel Aragorn lifted him and carried him out of the private bathing chamber, "Ready for bed, then play."

"Promise?" Farothen pouted.

"Cross my heart." Aragorn vowed.

"Okay," Farothen relented as Aragorn put him down on the bed to towel him dry.  That done Aragorn reached for the small nightshirt he'd put on the bed before tracking the boy down and dragging him out from under the desk in Elrond's study.  He helped the boy into the nightshirt then grabbed a brush.

"Play now?" Farothen asked.

Aragorn ran the brush through his son's dark, hobbitish curls and then set him on the floor, "Go.  Find what you want to play with."

"Okay!" Farothen said and ran over to the chest of toys in the corner while Aragorn exchanged his wet clothes for a dry pair of leggings.

Farothen returned with a bucket of wooden horses and soldiers that the twins had carved for him and plopped down on the floor.  He looked up at Aragorn with the big blue eyes he'd gotten from his sire; the very eyes that Aragorn could never say no to when they pleaded the way they were now.

"Ada," Farothen beguiled, "Play."

Smiling Aragorn sat down, "And who am I to be tonight?"

Farothen gave him a 'duh' head shake and rolled his eyes, "Bad guys."

Aragorn's heart squeezed.  That little head shake–eye roll was something he'd seen Legolas do many times while they were together.  After that the cerulean gaze would narrow slightly.

Farothen narrowed that same gaze now, "Ada.  Play."

"Of course," Aragorn nodded, "The bad guys."

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An hour and one wooden soldier battle (which the 'bad guys' had, of course, lost) later all toys had been cleaned up, goodnight hugs and kisses had been given to Grandfather, 'Uncle Twins' and Auntie Arwen.  Farothen, favorite blanket and stuffed wolf, Draug, in hand, curled up in Aragorn's arms in the rocking chair the ranger kept in his room to rock his son each night.

"Ada," Farothen mumbled, snuggling in, "Tell a story.  Princess one."

Aragorn smiled, "The princess one.  Okay."  He lightly rubbed Farothen's back as he rocked, "Once, long ago, in a far away wood there was an Elven princess known only as Greenleaf.  She was the most beautiful princess in all the land.  Everyday she would wander in her forest, singing to the trees and the animals.  All who heard her enticing voice and saw her beauty fell instantly in love with her.  One day..."  
"The evil wizard saw her," Farothen interrupted sleepily, "And 'napped her."

"Yes," Aragorn chuckled, "He kidnapped her and locked her away in a tower where no one but him would ever see her beauty or hear her sing.  Every night he would go to the tower and make her sing for him.  Night after night it was the same.  And everyday, when she was alone, she would sit by her window and look out toward her forest, singing of her grief at being held prisoner in the tower."

Aragorn paused to spread the blanket over his son, "After so many days of being locked in the tower Princess Greenleaf began to give up hope that she would ever be free to return to her beloved wood.  But, as luck would have it, a ranger was passing by one day and he heard her sad song."

"Stider." Farothen whispered, a hair's breath from slumber.

"Strider." Aragorn agreed, "The moment Strider heard Princess Greenleaf's song he followed her voice to her tower and, seeing her, he, too, fell deeply in love with her.  Princess Greenleaf took one look at Strider and, for the first time, she found herself returning someone's love.  Knowing he could not leave her, Strider rescued Princess Greenleaf and took her with him to his city where he was king and they were married and ruled the city together.  Their first child was a son, a perfect little princeling they named..."

Aragorn paused there, expecting Farothen to pipe up with his usual 'Faroten' but there was nothing forthcoming.  Glancing down he smiled, seeing that the boy was fast asleep.

Getting carefully to his feet Aragorn carried Farothen to the bed and laid him down, covering him up.  Pressing a gentle kiss to the child's forehead he whispered, "Sleep well, my son."

Making sure Farothen was tucked in securely Aragorn walked out onto the balcony outside his room and faced east, where he knew Mirkwood lay.  He'd left his heart there, with a prince who hadn't loved him enough to end a betrothal he didn't want.

Shaking his head Aragorn whispered, "You have no idea what you gave up, Legolas.  I wish you'd loved me enough to hold onto it all, enough to choose me."

Heaving a sigh he shook his head again.  It was pointless wishing for what couldn't be.  With one last glance to the east he went back inside.  Blowing out the oil lamp he crawled into bed and cuddled his son against him.  In seconds he, too, was lost in slumber.

_~End~_


End file.
